


A Study in Reproductive Science - Animal Farm

by welovethebeekeeper (orphan_account)



Series: How Two Became Three [4]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Parentlock
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-20
Updated: 2013-09-20
Packaged: 2017-12-27 03:08:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,109
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/973586
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/welovethebeekeeper
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Part 7 of a series. A day out for the Watson Holmes family to a farm park.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Study in Reproductive Science - Animal Farm

**Author's Note:**

> This is the last one in the series. I may revisit, never say never.

For the duration of the train journey, Sherlock had been conducting police business on his mobile, totally absorbed in NSY crime reports that required his feedback to Lestrade. John and Ben had engaged in a game of ‘Guess Who’ and decided to tune the detective out; difficult, but for two old pros at tuning Sherlock out, not a problem.

 Once they reached Leatherhead station John had to herd his husband into a standing position, push him down the aisle of the train and out the door, as Sherlock was now vehemently arguing with Lestarde. Once all three of the Watson-Holmes family were on the platform, John decided to take action. He reached up and took hold of one of Sherlock’s curls and tugged. The detective turned his attention immediately at his doctor.

 “Ow. What?” He yelped.

 “Stop with the phone. Now.” John was in Captain Watson mode. “I will not ask you again. Now.”

 Sherlock rolled his eyes and looked exacerbated. He finished the conversation with Lestrade: “John has just gone army on me. Have to go. Incoming fire.” Sherlock pushed the ‘end call’ bar and looked at John. “Happy?”

 “Far from it. This is a family day out, Benedict, your son, here, this little chap that looks like you except he’s the ginger version, this boy here. He wants a happy family day together. You have just spent two hours at New Scotland Yard. With us physically, but absent in actuality. Get.With.The.Program.”

 Sherlock cringed, realization setting in. He looked into his son’s eyes. “Sorry. Case. You know me when there’s a case.” He apologized to Ben. Ben returned with a Sherlockian squint.

 “Get with the program Daddy.” Six year old Benedict sounded just like John. 

 “Fine. I am now with the program.” Sherlock nodded, putting his phone into the pocket of his Belstaff. “Lead on.” He gestured down the platform, and Ben led the way to the exit. John gave Sherlock ‘a look’ and followed Ben. Sherlock braced himself and brought up the rear. Not really sure what ‘the program’ actually entailed, but he was with it if the two men in his life demanded it.

 By the time the cab pulled into the entrance of Bocket’s Farm Park the trio had found simpatico. John paid the driver and they joined the queue to enter.

 “Where are we and what is this place?” Sherlock was looking around in disgust. “It smells of manure.”

 “It’s a farm. Farms smell of manure.” John tutted. “I told you, it’s a day at a farm park, animals and tractors and play areas.”

 "Did I _agree_ to this?” The detective doubted he had done so.

 “Yes.” John smirked.

 “Was I naked with you on top of me at the time?” Sherlock whispered. “Because if so, I thought we had said if that situation occurred, any agreement I entered into must be revisited for confirmation when I am dressed and have had a cup of tea.” John started to giggle.

 “Do you want the feeding, bailing and rides?” The woman at the kiosk taking the entrance fee asked.

 “Sounds like symptoms of a terrible disease.” Sherlock was aghast. “Do people answer that question in the affirmative?” The woman was not amused. 

 “Do you want to feed the pigs, bail hay and ride on Tommy the Tractor?” She droned.

 “Not personally, no. However my son may find it educational.” Sherlock replied with distain.    

 John pushed his way into the window. “Day pass for everything, two adults and one child.” He offered a smile and paid. The woman presented him with three bright pink wrist bands.

 “Wear these at all times.” She instructed.

 John bent to fastened one of the bands on Ben’s wrist and handed another to Sherlock; who looked at it as if it were a poisonous snake. “No.” The detective shook his head.

 “If we have to wear one then you have to wear one.” John stood back up and wrapped the band around Sherlock’s wrist, securing it in place. “Your coat sleeve hides it.”

 “Milking in the Large Barn.” An announcement rang out. Ben looked at his parents with anticipation. 

 “Milk! We can see fresh milk being made.” He smiled, grabbing Sherlock’s hand and tugging.

 “Milk!! We adore milk.” Sherlock smiled back at his son. “Come on, we have cows to see.” 

 Cows, sheep, goats, horses, ponies, pigs, lambs, chickens, ferrets, donkeys, lamas.....all to see. And see them they did. Sherlock and Ben were enraptured in the workings of the farm, matching each other in enthusiasm and wonder as the animals were studied. Sometime during the day Sherlock acquired a pair of Wellington boots that he sported around the mud laden farm, and Benedict’s head sprouted a hat that resembled cow’s udders. John managed to sit for a while and have a cup of tea in the cafe whilst watching Farmer Brocket perform for the children. Farmer Brocket did a great visual and auditory presentation of ‘We’ve got a brand new combine harvester’. Not surprisingly Sherlock missed that delight. 

 Ben rode a Shetland pony around a paddock:

 “He has the Holmes Seat.” Sherlock smiled proudly, watching his son’s posture on the pony.

 “That mean the Holmes arse?” John asked. “Cos for Ben’s sake I hope your’e correct. Not a finer one in Britain.”

 

 Ben fed lambs:

“They feel like Dad’s jumpers.” Benedict squealed as he hugged a lamb close.

 

Ben washed a piglet:

 “Feel the skin Ben, they use it on burn victims, very similar to human skin.” Sherlock was calling out across the heads of several parents watching their off spring wash piglets. “We can take their skin off and stretch it to cover decubitus ulcers.” Several of the parents left to vomit, a few turned and threw admonishments at Sherlock and the farm worker in charge of the presentation asked him to leave.

 John feigned any knowledge of the tall, inappropriate man. 

 

Ben had an owl perch on his hand:

 “Just like Harry Potter.” John smiled at him, taking a photo on his mobile. “Sherlock see if you can get that big barn owl and hold him, I’ll take a photo of the two of you with matching owls.” John instructed.

 "No. Don’t think so. Owls not my area.” Sherlock looked terrified of the creatures.

 “Are you scared of owls?” John was shocked.

 “No. Don’t be ridiculous. I would rather not touch one.” Sherlock was obviously terrified of owls.

 “Daddy have my baby one.” Ben approached Sherlock. Sherlock rapidly moved backwards several paces, at the oncoming baby owl. “He won’t hurt you.”

 “No. No. I ....just, rather not.” Sherlock forced a grin. 

 “Ben it’s fine, Daddy apparently doesn’t like owls. Who knew.” John came to the rescue. “Go and give it back to the nice man over there.” He went closer to Sherlock. “Owls eh?” 

 “Owls.” Sherlock knew his secret was out. “Unfortunate incident as a child. Best left in the past.”

 “OK. Noted.” John took one last photo of Benedict with the owl, the boy handed the bird over to the staff member and ran back to his parents.

 “Daddy if we ever have a case with an owl just let me handle the owl.” Ben comforted taking his father’s hand. Sherlock grinned.

 

Ben rode the tractor barrels:

 “I assure you Madame, my son did no such thing”  Sherlock was sitting in the first barrel behind the tractor, resembling a large, elegant, praying mantis in the child size barrel on wheels. ‘Your child clearly infringed on my son’s priority in the queue and tried to take the front barrel for himself.”

 “Who do you fucking think you are? My son has every right to run for the best barrel and he bloody won. Your kid was too friggin slow.” The woman was yelling, irate and red in the face. “Get out and let him back in.”

“I have no intention of relinquishing this barrel to you.” Sherlock scowled.

 “If my husband were here he’d fucking kill you, for talking to me like that.” The woman had gathered an audience of parents around by the very volume of her voice. “Poncey posh bastard.”

 “I doubt your husband would be able to do anything of the kind. As he is not here, it is a moot point. Kindly desist and allow the ride to commence.” Sherlock decided to look straight ahead and dismiss the yelling woman.

 “You fucking twat.” The woman was thinking of pulling Sherlock’s hair.

 “Excuse me.” John pushed through the crowd. “Madame there are children here and your language is inappropriate. I am going to ask you to leave and allow the ride to continue.”

 “This bastard lifted my son out of the barrel and sat in it himself.” The woman mistook John for an official of the farm park. “He can’t touch my kid. He just can’t do that.”

 “I agree that he should not have laid hands on your child. However, shouting obscenities at him is not the way to handle this. Why don’t you and your son just let this ride go and take the first barrel of the next ride.” John was convincing. “Here, let’s all go behind the fence and queue up in an orderly fashion and let this ride continue.” John held onto the woman’s arm and led her away from Sherlock, son in tow. “Thank you. This is the best solution.” 

 Sherlock sprung out of the barrel, once the woman was gone, and placed Benedict in it, fastening his seat belt. He winked at his son. Turning to the young farm worker driving the tractor he gestured to start. “Go. Go on.” The tractor started and the barrels were pulled in a train like manner behind, taking the children on a tour of the farm. Sherlock sauntered over to where John was still calming the woman.

 “He needs to be cautioned.” The woman pointed at Sherlock. “Or punished.” She glared.

 Sherlock smirked, leaned in and kissed John full on the lips. “Please punish me tonight darling?” He purred. The woman’s mouth formed a perfect ‘O’ in shock, she was literally speechless. 

 “Let’s go have a cup of tea.” John pulled his husband away from the area, stifling a giggle till they were far enough away. “As soon as I came out the gent’s loo and heard ‘poncey posh bastard’ I just knew someone was referring to you.”

 “Just added a bit of fun to the day.” Sherlock was prancing towards the cafe. “We have twenty minutes, before round two. Fancy a snog behind the barn or even, John, a roll in the hay?”

 “Don’t you have a farm, or lands, in Cheltenham? If we want farm sex it may be more appropriate there than in a public play farm.”

 “Never considered that a possibility. However now you mention it we should go on a weekend visit.” The detective held open the door to the cafe. “Educational trip for Benedict of course.”

 

Ben climbed the play frame:

“It’s lovely to see a Dad having such a good time.” An elderly lady commented to John, they were on a bench watching the shenanigans of the children, and Sherlock, on the play frame. ‘He is so agile.”

 “Yes, he loves these things.” John smiled. “They pretend it’s a pirate ship and they are climbing the rigging.”

 “He’ll miss it in a few years when your boy is older.” The lady warned. “May start feeling broody for another one.”

 “Oh dear God no. I hope not.” John suddenly pictured cryo containers with their other embryos, far away in California, dormant and waiting for the possibility of life. 

 “Ahoy there Dad.” Ben called from the top tier of the frame, “man overboard!”

 

Ben fell asleep on the train home.

 “He really enjoyed today.” John stroked Ben’s hair, his son’s head resting in his lap.

 Sherlock responded with a huge, and genuine smile, then resumed his catch up on text messages.

 “Sherlock.” John spoke. The tone made the detective look up in anticipation; John was going to broach a subject. “The other embryos in California. Do you ever think of them?”

 “Yes. I do.” Sherlock put his phone down. “I often wonder what the other children would be like. Benedict looks like me but has your personality, I wonder if another child would look like you.”

 “Yeah. Would it have your brain? Is there a little genius in a cryo tube that would benefit the world. Or a mini Mycroft just waiting for a chance to be born and attain world domination.” John laughed.

 Sherlock gazed at his husband across the table, the train rushing towards London and home. “Want to find out?”

 

 


End file.
